


The Simple Life

by theythinkimabitch



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, but there's just the smallest dash of keenler, mostly saram related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23519095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theythinkimabitch/pseuds/theythinkimabitch
Summary: Rewrite of The Osterman Umbrella Company where Samar and Aram get the vacation they deserve with a certain little munchkin along for the ride.For 2019's Blacklist Secret Santa, posted here from Tumblr months later.
Relationships: Aram Mojtabai/Samar Navabi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	The Simple Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greetingsanddefiance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greetingsanddefiance/gifts).



> As always a huge shoutout to the ever so wonderful Isa_renee for being my beta! <3

After years of waking up no later than seven, with vacations a concept rendered unfamiliar due to a job as mercurial as being an agent, Samar had been awake for quite a while.

“Rise and shine!” 

She’d been awake long before Aram, whether he believed it or not.

“You’re up early,” Samar proclaimed, rubbing her eyes as she shifted so she could sit.

Samar might have been awake for a while, but that didn’t mean she particularly felt like moving. After all, it was the first day in a long time she could remember having free. The first weekday, mind you. She was going to make the most of every second, even if those seconds were spent reveling in the warmth of her soft bedding with blankets and pillows tastefully scattered across their bed to give her that extra support she so desperately needed.

“It has been a morning,” Aram huffed, carefully carrying what little he salvaged from his many breakfast-related mishaps. “Two small grease fires in the kitchen, one almost disastrous juicing accident. But, _voilà!_ Breakfast in bed.”

Samar struggled to fight a grin as she looked around the wonderful display Aram made her. “What’s on the menu?”

“French toast, hashbrowns,” Aram began to list. “All your favorites.”

“So, _none_ of my favorites,” Samar retorted, “But, I love you anyway.”

“Well, I got the orange juice right,” Aram sighed, taking a seat on the edge of their bed. “But, um, be careful…there might be part of my finger in there.”

With a nod, Samar took the hint and traded orange juice for a more practical cup of coffee, having faith Aram couldn’t possibly have messed that up. “What’s the occasion?”

“I thought you’d want a full stomach for our trip.”

“Our trip?” she questioned. “Where are we going?”

With a devious grin, out came a leaflet from behind Aram’s back that danced excitedly between his fingertips.

“The Lodge at Glenforest,” he began to announce. “Rural Pennsylvania. Three days, two nights, our own cabin in the woods. Dinner in the main lodge, crackling fires.” And as if that wasn’t enough to encourage Samar to go, he added, “I look really, really good in flannel. What do you think?”

“That sounds amazing,” she responded, running her thumb against the rim of her coffee cup. “But don’t they need you at work? I’m the only one that’s retiring.”

“I cleared it with Mr. Cooper!” came the happy announcement. “The team can manage. It’s not like the world’s gonna end.”

“That sounds amazing,” she responded, running her thumb against the rim of her coffee cup. “But don’t they need you at work? I’m the only one that’s retiring.”

“I cleared it with Mr. Cooper!” came the happy announcement. “The team can manage. It’s not like the world’s gonna end.”

“Aram, we worked together, remember?” Samar’s retorted sassily. “We both know the world could _literally_ end if you’re not there.”

With a sweet smile reserved just for her, he bent over to place a kiss on her head. “It’s just a few days. Eat and I’ll pack?”

“How about we share breakfast instead?” Samar asked softly. “They’re your favorites after all.”

Aram quickly jumped over her ready to tuck himself back under the covers, not needing much convincing at all. With Samar being a morning person and Aram quite assuredly the opposite, breakfast in bed wasn’t something they did often. But in this new life of theirs, with new beginnings just starting to unfold, perhaps breakfast in bed was something they could start doing more often.

Grease fires and juiced fingers not included. 

But for that to happen, as they both later decided, the cooking might be better left to Samar.

* * *

They spent hours eating breakfast. Talking about everything and nothing all at once. They wouldn’t have moved had it not been for the plans that Aram made. Eventually, though, they had to get up. 

_After all, what good was a new beginning if it was spent wasting away in bed?_

Once the dishes had been cleaned and the refrigerator scanned for any possible food they could bring on the road trip they broke apart, each focusing on packing their own bags. 

With the advantage of having planned the trip himself, Aram walked back into the kitchen, his own bag already packed, simply waiting for Samar to be ready to go.

“I was thinking this would be more of a romantic getaway, but, you know, if you feel naked without a gun, we can always role play.”

“Sorry,” Samar apologized, placing her weapon back in the lock box she always had within reach. “Force of habit.”

“How about we start some new habits?” he suggested kindly. 

“You’re absolutely right. New life, new habits.”

“Unless you want to role play.”

“I think a cabin in the woods is a perfect place to start. No phone reception, no internet.”

“Meeting a stranger,” Aram enthused giddly. “No! Maid/butler secret rendezvous.”

“Thank you for not letting me push you away,” Samar whispered, turning to her fiance with a smile, ignoring the need to pack for just a little while longer.

“Yeah, you tried pretty hard, but lucky for you, I can’t take a hint,” Aram said with a smile before the glint in his eye gave way to yet another idea. “Hitchhiker! No, interrogation!”

“I got an idea,” Samar teased, her hands snaking around his neck.

“Teacher/pupil?”

“Why don’t we make our own fantasy?”

With the smile she’d grown so accustomed to seeing on his face, Samar leaned in pressing her lips against his, living so happily in a moment so blissfully boring and domestic…at least it had been until the sharp ringing of a phone interrupted them.

“Has the world ended yet?” Samar quipped leaving Aram to pat every pocket looking for the offending device.

“Actually, I think that’s your phone.”

Samar frowned, turning around to place the device that indeed belonged to her against her ear.

“Ressler?”

“Yeah, hey Samar-–”

“You know I’m retired now, right?”

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“What happened?” she sighed, focusing more so on shoving her arms through the sleeves of her favorite green jacket.

“It’s Agnes. Liz is sick and practically delirious. Cooper let me go so I could take care of her, but I can’t keep Agnes away and I don’t want her to get sick. I know you and Aram got plans, but with Christmas right around the corner, I can’t find a babysitter a-–”

“And you want us to take care of her?” Samar finished for him, already mulling over the idea.

“Just for the weekend,” Ressler pleaded. “You do this and I’ll get you that room myself.”

With a smile Samar glanced back at Aram who had already moved onto new and better things. She was sure that he wouldn’t mind bringing an extra little guest. They had both decided that children was something no longer in the cards for them, leaving their goddaughter the closest thing they had to a daughter of their own.

“We’ll be there in an hour,” Samar decided before turning back to Aram.

“Where are we going?”

“To grab Agnes,” Samar answered with a smile. “She’s coming!”

* * *

She’d forgotten how calming it was to simply occupy the passenger’s seat and have nothing at all to worry about. Like many adults, Samar had simply gotten used to the task of driving. It was something she did near every day. She’d get out of bed, go on her morning run, return back to wherever it was she had slept the night before and take a shower before inevitably needing to take some sort of vehicle to complete whatever task she had for the day.

Even on the occasional lazy day, there was still the drive to work or maybe the drive to a grocery store. But on their way towards the Keen and Ressler residence, it was Aram that took control of driving, letting Samar rest her head on the cool window, watching patiently as the city that’d quickly become home began to blur by.

As relaxing as it was, her brain couldn’t help but continue to whir. Reminders of her promise to Aram that she’d do whatever she could to fight off the impending decline of her brain as well as the various tricks her doctor had suggested pinged inside her head. So on the way to grab Agnes, she mentally mapped the route she’d come to be so familiar with until the car eventually slowed to a stop with the brakes squealing as Aram pulled closer to the curb.

For as much as they knew Ressler loved Agnes, he certainly did seem impatient to let her go. They stood hand in hand on the corner of the street, the little one decked out in her impractical winter gear with a small backpack and silver puffer jacket she donned being the only sign that Ressler had indeed prepared her for their impromptu trip. 

“I’ll be right back,” Aram promised as a rush of wind blew through the open door with Samar giving him a quiet nod and soft smile in response.

She couldn’t hear much of what was going on outside, what with the soft droan of the heater they’d flicked on long ago, but seeing Aram smile as he bent down to Agnes’ level, watching Ressler guard the excitable little girl that shrieked loud enough for Samar to hear, was enough to spark a laugh from Samar’s lips.

Perhaps Samar had been ready to leave in order to secure Aram’s chance at a happy future, but Samar knew she deserved the happiness as much as he did. She, like her fiance, deserved to have a happily ever after and without such an adorable goddaughter or such a dorky soon-to-be husband, she wasn’t sure how she could.

“Prozen, prozen!!” she screamed, jumping inside the car without so much as a greeting to Samar, without regard for the carseat first needing to be secured. 

“What’s that?” Samar questioned, glancing at Aram for answers as he packed bags into the trunk, leaving Ressler to work securing the her car seat.

“Frozen,” Ressler sighed, trying to get his kid to pay attention.

“You told her we were going to see the snow,” Samar brightly deduced.

She knew the way kids’ brains worked. She was about to marry one after all.

“She’s gotta get in the mood,” Aram argued with a smile. “We have to sing ‘Let It Go’ exactly two hundred thirty five and a half times to make sure that we have enough snow to last the weekend.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“That’s the truth!” Agnes chattered back, her legs kicking up and down excitedly, thumping loudly against the plastic seat.

“Alright, kiddo, you’re all set.”

“We have to listen to Elsa!”

“I’ll see you in a few days, okay? Have fun. Something happens–”

“Bye-bye, daddy!” Agnes quickly sang out, before chanting for the one thing she’d been waiting for for a whole _five_ minutes! “Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa!”

Samar had known for quite a while that the ride there would be long.

“Elsa!” Aram cheered with her, searching on his phone for songs sung by everybody’s favorite winter princess.

What she hadn’t expected was that it would be _this_ long.

“Ready?”

But this was all in regards to family and family vacations.

“Ready!” Agnes confirmed.

As far as Samar was concerned, the ride couldn’t be long enough.

* * *

As it turned out, Aram had been wrong. It wasn’t something that he was very often, but he was, and he’d so gratefully admit it.

It hadn’t taken two hundred thirty five and a half times before Agnes got bored of the song. Not that he’d been counting, but really, it’d been closer to only a hundred times.

For as much as he loved watching princess movies with the girls, even he tired of listening to the _Frozen_ soundtrack on repeat. Thankfully, Agnes had fallen asleep after the first hour and a half, letting Aram tentatively unplug his phone from the car and switch to the droan of whatever radio station Samar settled on. 

They drove a little while longer, making progress on their journey before they came to a quick pit stop for a warm cup of coffee. Once he’d finally made it past the border and into Pennsylvania, the radio eventually turned off. With conversation kept to a quiet minimum so as not to wake Agnes, Samar eventually dozed off, leaving Aram the only one awake.

After so recently having learned to drive, the bliss of driving with little to no traffic as darkness began to reign was something he still managed to find comfort in. Time ticked on and silence stretched thin, broken only by the occasional rhythmic click of the turn signal or motion for more coffee. 

Finally, they made it. Eventually they reached the Lodge at Glenforest, the girls still sleeping safe and sound.

He checked in without a problem, getting help to carry in bags. Samar, the light sleeper that she was, woke up without a fuss and carried Agnes into bed until eventually there was nothing left to do.

There was no technology to ensure was charged-–the only service was in the Big House, after all–-no dishes to make sure were cleaned, no turtle to make sure was fed.

Aram turned in the bed in which he lay with Samar, one arm around her and the other reaching to turn off the light.

How great had this idea been? After so long, there they were sleeping blissfully in the sweet sound of silence.

* * *

She’d woken up alone again. There was no one in the bed beside her, the sheets were empty, space next to her cold.

Samar could smell the food. This time, it really did smell like _her_ favorites.

Slowly but surely, Samar made it out of bed. She went through the motions of everyday life.

She brushed her teeth, tied up her hair, washed her face.

It didn’t take long for her to end up in their temporary living room, the food Aram had saved resting on the coffee table waiting and ready for her to grab.

Despite the steaming pile of food, what she went for instead was a mug filled with fresh coffee and the jacket she’d worn on the way over. She could hear Agnes and Aram playing around outside. It wasn’t anything particularly _unusual_.

What was unusual, however, was the burst of cold wet that smashed across her face the second she pulled the door open. Cold wet that dripped down, cold wet that suddenly crumbled and fell into her coffee with a splash, nothing but silence and a stifled giggle from a certain someone in response.

With all the dignity only Samar Navabi could manage to retain after being pelted in the face with a snowball, she turned stiffly on her heel, softly closing the door behind her, walking back into their cabin, searching for another source of coffee to help kick start her day.

It didn’t take long for Samar to find Aram’s stash of coffee left abandoned with an energetic kid to do the job for him. It did, however, take a little longer for the two deviants to make their way back inside.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad?” questioned Samar, unfamiliar with the concept.

_Who had time to be angry when planning revenge?_

“I just hit you with a snowball,” Aram said carefully.

He didn’t need to know Samar as well as he did to know she was in the process pf plotting revenge.

“That’s all part of the game, though, isn’t it?”

“What game?” Agnes innocently questioned, getting to work on the food she well knew was reserved especially for Samar. 

“The snow day games,” Samar teased back, grabbing a strip of bacon from the plate before Agnes could finish it all. “It’s a three day compeition to see who will win a super secret, very special prize.”

“Prize!!” the girl cheered.

“When I win,” Samar said sternly, glaring at her soon-to-be husband. “I get two months off laundry duty.”

For what felt like years now, Samar had been the one doing all the laundry. Aram had managed to skillfully parcel the chore out to Samar under the pretense that she was the only one who knew how to care for her magical green jacket, but Samar had patiently taught Aram how to clean it many times before. She was confident he knew how to care for the jacket on his own.

“And when I win,” came Aram’s much anticipated reply.

“Big chocolate gummy bears!” Agnes screamed hysterically.

“I get big chocolate gummy bears and I get to keep my bike in the living room.”

That god forsaken bike of his was an argument they’d had plenty of times.

Bikes simply did not go in the living room. There was a bike rack right outside their apartment for a _reason_. Bikes didn’t need any special care and if Aram truly did need for his precious bike to be wrapped in the warmth of their household as he so eloquently put it, then she by all means, would be more than willing to buy it a tarp to stave off the rain and snow.

But Samar had every intention of winning this battle and if winning this battle meant she could end their everlasting war…

“Deal,” Samar responded.

“Then may the odds be ever in your favor.”

* * *

It seemed almost counterproductive to let day one of their games begin after they had the massages Aram had ordered, but that’s the way it all worked out.

The victor of day one would be determined by the victor of a snowball fight.

Samar had been preparing for this particular competition the whole day. She’d bribed Agnes, been clandestinely making snowballs as they walked around the campgrounds, and had been more on guard than usual.

She’d been waiting for the _perfect_ moment to launch her sneak attack. 

The time came when Agnes served as a perfect distraction. After walking around for such a long time, her legs had grown tired. Normally Samar would’ve had no problem carrying her, but she did need a distraction and with the promise of extra Christmas presents, Agnes had agreed to be on her side.

She traded the many bags Aram carried for the small little girl and walked ahead of them with the excuse that they were carrying perishables. Of course that wasn’t true, but Agnes was a wonderful distraction. 

Within minutes Samar made it into their temporary home and set down all the bags filled with possible gifts for all their friends. A minute after that, she’d managed to sneak out towards the back and stockpile some necessary ammunition. 

With a pile of ready to fire snowballs and footsteps getting increasingly louder as they crunched in the snow a small smile spread across her lips. Agnes stayed with her head resting on Aram’s shoulder, a grin on her own face as she and Samar made eye contact.

She lifted a gloved finger to her lips, hoping Agnes got the message to be quiet. For a split second, Samar fear her plan had backfired for up came Agnes’ head as she pulled from Aram before she very vehemently decided that they needed hot chocolate.

While Aram wholeheartedly agreed with the plan all Samar could think was that Agnes would grow up to be a wonderfully mischievous young lady.

From outside as Samar creeped around the building, she could hear Aram calling for her.

“Samar!” she heard a loud hiss.

“Where’s Aram?” Samar asked back.

“Hot chocolate!” Agnes whispered back, crouched right beside her.

“Good idea,” Samar whispered back, handing her a ready made snowball. “Okay, you have to go out front and call Aram now, is that okay?”

“I wanna throw snow!” Agnes pouted in response.

“You will!”

“The first one?”

“If you get Aram,” Samar bartered.

Samar stayed strong under the withering gaze of a determined five year old and soon enough Agnes relented, a quick grin breaking free as she spun on her heels screaming for Aram.

Within a second she could hear the door creaking back open and a soft thud broke out soon after along with a cry of indignation before giggles that masked it and big footsteps that ran after her.

“Snowball, snowball!”

“Shh!” Samar whispered, handing her another.

The element of surprise wouldn’t be as strong as she’d hoped, but Samar was proud knowing Agnes had gotten him good.

Another set of footsteps stopped in front of them and the two girls smiled innocently at the man standing before them.

Brown eyes raked over the two girls standing ready to fight across from him when he noticed a certain pile of white snow looking oddly similar to snowballs.

The minute he opened his mouth, the attack began with Agnes letting out an excited scream and Samar pelting him along the way.

That was certainly one point for Samar placing her firmly in the lead.

* * *

On the second day of their vacation, Aram finally managed to sleep to a respectable hour.

Things seemed to drift back into vague semblance of normalcy. Samar woke up first, took care of breakfast, spent time with Agnes.

And while Aram _may_ have been sleeping, that didn’t mean he hadn’t been scheming. 

You see, as Aram lay in bed accepting woeful defeat, he’d come upon a very important fact.

Where Aram was born and raised in the snowy lands of Delaware, Samar had been born and raised in the sweltering heat of Tehran, Iran. He was fairly confident that through all her worldly travels, she’d become acclimated to the snow, but there were certain advantages that having grown up in snow gave him.

He knew better than to surprise her. He had to play to his own strengths, needed to propose a challenge he was fairly certain he could win.

(Even if he couldn’t manage to bribe the would be judge.)

“Day two of the snow games are upon us,” Aram announced, walking out into the open.

Fresh snow had fallen the night before. It was as if the universe was laying down the groundwork for him to succeed.

“That it is, my love,” Samar responded, curiously looking up at Aram as he walked down the few steps and sat right beside her.

“How would you like to build a snowman?”

“A snowman?” Samar questioned.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” teased Aram.

Samar’s lips easily quirked into a smile and she nodded firmly, placing down her mug on the stairs and getting up to prepare.

Build a snowman they would.

* * *

With Agnes tired after a morning filled with playing, keeping her within view was a moderately simple task.

Aram knew better than to ever have underestimated Samar, but there were certain things that he just knew how to do _better_ than her.

Samar played around with the classic materials. She started rolling the snow, trying to keep it nice and steady. She made balls each increasingly smaller that she stacked one over the other. Samar did excellent for what had to be one of her first snowmen.

But for Aram who had years upon years of practice, he went above and beyond. He quickly slipped into the focused determination he so often slipped into at work as he found just the right kind of snow to properly pack together. He went around looking diligently for good stones to use as eyes, for nice twigs to use as arms crossed akimbo.

He made sure that his was not only the most aesthetically pleasing, but technically proficient. He rounded each ball making sure they were smooth around the edges. He packed extra snow around the bottom of each circle making sure they each stayed steady.

Even if Samar managed to miraculously find the better of the decorations to use on her snowman, Aram was certain his snowman would at least fare better structurally.

He hadn’t been actively planning for this competition all week, but he figured that the tiara and scepter he bought Agnes the day before would work well with his magical creation. So he worked and he worked, went in and out of the cabin rifling through the many bags they all had brought until early morning melted into early afternoon and the creation he’d spent all night fussing about finally finished and he took a step back to admire his work.

To say he went above and beyond was an understatement. His snowman was decadent. She was dressed in full princess gear, her snowy cheeks painted red thanks to a sacrificed strawberry flavored drink, a tiara on her head and scepter sticking out from her body.

Samar had finished long ago, ending up with Agnes back on the stairs, watching and giggling as Aram placed his hands on his own hips ready for the judge to announce the winner.

Upon the sudden realization that what they’d been giggling at was him, Aram looked worriedly at Samar’s entry for a moment, fearing that she bested him in a way he never could have anticipated. 

But rather than a masterpiece rivaling work of all the world-famous snowmen making artists, Aram was greeted with a haphazard attempt at a snowfigure that already begun to crumble long ago.

_It must’ve been something else then…_

Samar tapped her head and Aram reached for what should’ve been his beanie, his fingers landing only on cold spikes that spread out from every direction.

_Oh no._

Aram’s eyes widened as he turned around, trying to press down the many spikes, hoping that what he feared wouldn’t turn out to be true.

_Please no. No, no, no–-_

A cold puff of air materialized before him as Samar held up her phone, selfie camera activated so he could see for himself the mess he’d somehow created.

In all the mayhem of making sure this day’s event had been won, somehow Aram had managed to freeze his hair into reddish spikes. The strawberry drink he’d used to color his snowman’s cheeks was mysteriously empty, the bottle having blown off toward the walkway as he pouted in reluctant acceptance.

“It’s definitely a new look,” Samar offered up, sliding her phone away as she reached to get a feel for his hair. “Not as bad as you might think.”

“Does my snowman win at least?” Aram questioned, hoping that at least it’d been worth it.

“Yes, Aram,” Samar admitted with a soft smile saved only for him. “Your snowman wins.”

A tie it was, then. Day three would be reserved for the ultimate tie-breaking game to see who would finally become the sole victor of their very own winter olympics.

* * *

The competition had been forgotten for most of their last day in Glenforest. Determination to accomplish all the activities they could in one day served as an excellent way to procrastinate determining the true victor. 

It wasn’t until all the bags had been packed and the car had been readied for travels that they realized there was still one activity they hadn’t managed to try out: ice skating.

As Samar rolled out of the parking lot and Aram started to fiddle with the GPS, a few wrong turns were made until eventually they happened upon an ice rink, wonderfully bedazzled with fairy lights, filled with people of all ages laughing and falling, twirling and some more falling, scoring and…well, falling some more.

“You know, the day isn’t over quite yet.”

Aram looked up at her, excitement dancing in his eyes, knowing exactly what she was going to suggest.

“Whoever makes the most goals by the end of the night,” Aram began to declare while they all tied up their shoe laces in preparation for the rink.

“The hockey area seems full,” Samar pointed out, trying to get Agnes’ tiny feet into her own set of skates.

“We can make our own goals,” Aram offered back, tilting his head sideways, trying to see how they could make ice skating into a fair competition.

There were buckets scattered in the rink ready for the taking, but Aram figured that those would be better left for the kids who really needed it rather than their own grand competition.

Holding Agnes’ hand, Samar stood, contemplating along with him. 

“How about whoever makes it from one end to the next first?” she offered.

As Agnes reached up for Aram’s hand, he looked down and smiled, content with the possibility.

 _That_ he could do.

It took them a little while to get acclimated. Samar and Aram, being used to the concept, made it around the ice rink a few times together with Agnes in between them who was more than happy to be pulled with them wherever they decided to go.

As time went on, however, Agnes started to get restless and they found her a stack of colorful buckets for her to move around with all on her own. They stood away from her for just a second, watching as she managed to go around and make friends with new children and independently explore, people making way for her to pass. Enough time elapsed to where they felt sure she knew what to do. They kept her well within eyesight, let her mill around on her own before deciding it was time to end this once and for all. 

The more time they spent on the rink, the more people seemed to filter in. It had gotten to the point where they could hardly see the other side of the rink. The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel seemed almost nonexistent.

At their side stood Agnes looking as elegant as she always did, one small hand in the air, the other steady on her bucket.

“Weady?” she asked, preparing herself to announce the beginning of the end. “ _One..._ ”

Samar and Aram both crouched into ready positions, the two of them separated by the crowd of people enjoying their own adventures, unfazed by the war that’d soon explode around them.

“Two!”

Each of them plotted their path. Sought out small breaks in the throng of people that never seemed to end. Planned strategies on how to avoid collisions with innocent passerbyers.

“Three!”

But all of their meticulous planning went out the window as soon as they surged forward, desperate to win their well-deserved gifts.

There was not a chance in the world Samar would let Aram keep his bike in the living room. She refused to have it looming in the corner, wheels tracking dirt on their floor, sticking out for them both to trip.

But even with that in mind as Aram swerved, nearly falling to avoid bulldozing down a sweet toddler, she couldn’t help but reach out to catch him.

She _hated_ that damn bike, but she did love her soon to be husband.

While Aram was determined to win, he couldn’t help but want to stay alive. It was no secret that grace wasn’t his forte. He could skate; he was capable of doing it, but just like with most things, going too fast made him clumsy and he really didn’t want a repeat of the time he’d needed a cast to reset his wrist.

Determination was a powerful thing. It made focus unbreakable, it made everything else unimportant, made losing something akin to a sacrilegious crime.

In a race with one victor, there was always meant to be a loser, but what the pair hadn’t expected was for both of them to lose. For when they managed to get back around the rink, dashing forward, slipping around other people, they both slowed to a stop realizing Agnes was moving forward, her face scrunched with steely determination, pushing her bucket right along as she slowly made her way back to the starting line.

“Hey, sweetie?” Aram carefully asked, slowly making his way along with Samar after her, wanting to see how on earth she’d managed to beat them both.

“I win!” she cheered excitedly. “I wiiin!”

She most certainly had. How exactly, they’d never be quite sure, but Agnes had made it around the rink faster than either of them had.

“What do you win, love?” asked Samar.

They really hadn’t planned for that specific outcome.

With a smirk matching one they so often saw her mother wear while interrogating the most devious of criminals, Agnes simply tutted forward with her stack of buckets, making her way out of the rink and back into the car.

* * *

To say she was excited would be an understatement. She was happy and restless and couldn’t go to sleep.

She was trapped in the car seat, uncomfortable yes, but she was going home enveloped with teddy bears and she’d had so _much_ chocolate!

Chocolate was her favorite! Chocolate was the best. She had a great big lollipop that she got for mommy and she got a cuddly bear for daddy!

But her favorite was the big cuddly stuffed pig she got. It was just so cozy and so soft and so _pretty_.

It took her only a few moments into their hours long journey before she finally dozed off. Aram and Samar would say it was a sugar crash, but Agnes would always know that it was the power of Mr. Oinks that forced her to sleep. He was just too squishy and made for a nice pillow.

By the time they arrived back in DC it was late. Dusk had settled across the sky, the world bathed in a soft purple hue. All the colors the sun had proudly shone off before were replaced with the artificial coloring of street lamps and traffic lights. They were beautiful still, but in a different sort of way.

And unlike before, when Samar and Aram had shown up at the end of their trip, parking was easy to find. While Samar reached for all the bags Agnes had brought and later accumulated, Aram reached in to grab the little girl and rest her on his chest while the other bravely reached for the car seat hoping that it wouldn’t tumble out of his hand and break.

Luckily for them, there was a functioning elevator in Liz’s building letting them rest for a moment before having to begin to shuffle things back out again.

Samar had called Ressler earlier, wanting to make sure Liz recovered enough to make bringing Agnes home safe and with the confirmation that it was, Samar and Aram stood patiently, waiting for the door to open and Agnes to return home.

To their surprise it was Liz who answered with a smile on her face, reaching out for her daughter, inviting them both in along the way. 

“We gotta get home,” Samar argued in response to the invitation to stay.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Ressler answered back, his hand around Liz’s waist as they all contently watched Agnes sleep, a rare moment of peace for them all.

“It was our pleasure,” Aram answered, exhaustion weighing him down enough to want nothing more than to be back in his own bed with Samar beside him ready to drift into a restful sleep. 

With final greetings being echoed out all one after another, Samar and Aram eventually made it out safely, managing the trip back to their own apartment well-enough, leaving their bags in the trunk, too tired to carry them back up stairs with them.

There was hardly anything left in them and it wasn’t a bad thing. All they wanted at the end of such a day was the same peace and tranquility they always found in each other. All three of them had had fun and it would be a trip they’d talk about for years to come, a tradition of sorts, at times with Agnes and at times without. Although their bet never officially had a winner, at the end of the day, they couldn’t be happier with the prize being the simple life they always managed to gift one another.


End file.
